His Greatest Love is His Greatest Sin
by Assassin Number 9
Summary: "A husband is one who loves his wife with all that he has, my love. How could I be considered a husband when I hold no true feelings for my wife? The one I hold true feelings for is you, my darling. I care not that I am married anymore. Even if it means bearing the greatest of sins, I will continue to love you with my whole being. And that is one promise that I can and will keep."
1. Shepard's Pie with a Side of Colcannon

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to Type-Moon**

 **A/N: Hello everyone :) I had an idea for a story for a long while that seemed a lot different from the others, so I decided to make it kind of a side story. You know, one that I only write when I really want to write it.**

 **Anyway, I'm going to warn you guys right now that this story will not be a happy one like most of my other fics. This could probably even be considered a tragedy maybe. I don't know really. But please, proceed with caution if you do not like sad stories. And I'm telling you right now, the ending will probably be bittersweet. So without further ado, I now present to you lovely readers –** _ **His Greatest Love is His Greatest Sin.**_

* * *

 _ **His Greatest Love is His Greatest Sin**_

 _ **Chapter 1 - Shepard's Pie with a Side of Colcannon**_

The ring of the bell sounded within the small restaurant in which his grand sin started – the one that had caused his soul to go pitch black. The little bell had a sweet sound to it that only made the man whom had just walked in with only a nod to the waitress who had offered him a warm welcome become blue and hear nothing but a bitter sound that hurt his eardrum. And yet, he still made his way to the little restaurant every day of every week of every year. And, never would the bitter bell cause him to cease his trips over to the sweet-smelling yet sour-feeling place.

He sat in the quiet that was his world, for his fate had been reduced to nothing when all the things that had once caused him the cheer he once held in the palm of his hands had gone away due to one (or two, some would say) woman who had crumbled his dignity, his honor, his loyalty, his life, his only self and one decision that continued to smash his soul with the heaviest of weights and make him bear the guilt on his shoulders every day of his life. And because of that one sin, his back, his neck, his arms, his legs, his whole physical self pained him nonstop. There was no antidote to the misery, but only more misery.

And yet even if the male had to bear that kind of torture, he had no regrets in doing what he had done. He only smiled at the sin, welcoming it as if it was his elder brother whom he had not seen since amid the rubble that was the incident. There was nothing to regret, only the ending, but something told him, however, that there could be a happy end even after all that had started nearly four years prior. He was for some reason confident that he had a fairy tale end soon to come.

Shoes sounded from beside him, as he looked up at the waitress, a pleasant smile on her face that warmed the man's heart. "Hello, I will be your waitress for today. The special today is shepard's pie with a side of colcannon. Can I get you anything to drink today?" _What a coincidence,_ Diarmuid thought, as he ordered his drink. The waitress nodded and left, leaving the handsome Irishman to himself once more. He looked at the time, realizing that history had seemed to be repeating itself. Sitting in silence for a long moment just looking around, he gave a smirk to himself and looked down at the table, preparing himself for what was to come. _And so my greatest sin begins once more._

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" _A Faithful Husband is One Who Loves His Wife with All That He Has. You, Brother, are Not Faithful to Her - You Can't Be Faithful to Her - for Your Marriage Had Nothing To Do With Love That is Pure and True. That Ring on Your Finger is Only the Symbol of the Unrequited Love that Your 'Wife' Holds for You. You are Not Happy, and As Your Brother It Hurts Me To See You So Miserable."_

The tapping of a ring against a table could be heard throughout the restaurant, a slight sound that echoed in the ears. The man whom the sound came from sat in silence, not wanting to speak for if he did he would no doubt start to tear up. How did he get tricked into marrying someone whom he did not love? Was it a sin that he married a woman whom he held no true feelings for but instead held hatred for? Yes, he had no word in the proposal that her father had given him. It was rather simple. The woman wanted to marry _him_ and not her ex-fiancee, so she single-handedly tricked both her father and the man she was supposed to marry prior to Diarmuid. And later, Diarmuid was tricked as well - tricked into marrying her, tricked into causing the man who was destined to be her husband, his boss who respected him very much, to hate him with a passion.

The fact was that the Irishman was now miserable because of it. He had no love for his wife but was still forced to pretend to love her, the only happiness he ever had the chance to get was when he went out with his brother. The people he knew even kept telling him to find a way to get out of the misery and yet still somehow keep his chivalry and honor in tact even though they knew just as well as he did that that was impossible. How could he possibly find happiness of any kind anymore? Simply put, it was very unlikely, near impossible even.

Footsteps soon came from beside him, and he looked up to see the waitress who wore her usual happy smile and pretty face. "Hello sir, I will be serving you today. The special today is shepard's pie with a side of colcannon. Can I get you anything to drink today?" Diarmuid nodded and answered her.

"Yeah, I'll just have a Coke please." The waitress bobbed her head and made her way to go get the drink. He remembered about two months prior to that day when he tried the exact same special. The flavor of the British and Irish dishes were amazing. They were incredibly delectable.

The waitress soon came back with his drink, allowing him to order the wonderful meal once more. Once again, the waitress nodded her head and went to go put the order in. After she left, Diarmuid sat in more silence, the only sounds being the ones around him. He looked around a bit before taking out his phone and reading the text he had just received from his elder brother. _Do what you want, Dia. But if I were you, I would_ , it read. The twenty-three year old sighed before replying. Suddenly, Diarmuid felt a slight poke on his shoulder and a sweet "excuse me".

Turning around, his amber eyes locked with beautiful, green ones. The emeralds belonged to a beautiful, short blonde who wore a sweet smile on her face and a slight flush on her cheeks. "Sorry, but do you mind if I sit with you. There aren't any tables left, and you look lonely over here", she giggled lightly, a ringing that was better than the bell of the restaurant. The raven-haired male was momentarily frozen by the female's beauty before he was able to shake himself out of the daze and give her a nod of approval. "Thank you so much", she replied, sitting on the other side of the table. "I'm Arturia by the way. May I have your name?" Diarmuid smiled at her warmly. _What a beautiful woman,_ he commented in his mind.

"Diarmuid", the man told the woman. She gave him a gorgeous, bright grin.

"What a lovely name, is it Irish?"

"Yes, it is. Yours is beautiful as well", Diarmuid complimented, causing her to chuckle with a slight blush to appear on her face - the sweetest of sights with the sweetest of sounds was definitely the sweetest of moments. The time was short however before it stopped.

"Thank you", she smiled. Her grin made him wonder what it would be like waking up to a similar smirk every morning. _If only there was a chance_ , the Irishman said in his mind, as he nodded his head in return with his own soft smile. Her giggle sounded once more, causing his heart to flutter like a butterfly in the summer's breeze. There was no sound like it. It was unique, gorgeous, adorable, one of a kind. He watched as her eyes traveled down to something that rested on the table – his left hand. Her eyes widened, as she saw the ring that was placed upon his finger. "Oh, you are married? Ha, I'm not surprised. You _are_ quite handsome. She must be very lucky. May I ask what her name is?" The question stung Diarmuid's heart for a reason unknown, but he did not let that show but instead just gave another nod of his head and another smile and proceeded to answer the question.

"Her name is Gráinne, but it is a rather _complicated_ marriage", he responded, a sad smirk forming upon his beautiful face that was only flawed by his cursed beauty mark that was underneath his right eye. The blonde woman sitting across the table gave him a confused expression, wondering how a marriage with someone like the man in front of her could be complicated in any way, shape, or form. The confused expression soon turned into a sad one. How could this man, a gem in a pile of rubble, be put through such a marriage?

"Complicated? I would have never imagined such a man as yourself would ever have problems in a marriage. Have you stopped loving her?" Arturia questioned softly, trying not to sound to harsh for she strongly desired an answer from the raven-haired Irishman. He shook his head before looking up at her.

"No, that is not it. You were close though", he started with a gloomy tone that made the Englishwoman start to feel sorry for the male. "It's a rather long story that I shouldn't be burdening you by telling, but I'll just sum it up as best as I can. Basically, she tricked her father and ex-fiancee into letting her marry me instead", Diarmuid explained, accidentally earning Arturia's sympathy.

"You had no say in marrying her?" The other at the table shook his head.

"Unfortunately, I did not. She tricked me as well, so now I am in a marriage where I do not love the woman I wedded to. It's sad really, but I couldn't do anything about it", he replied quietly before changing the subject to something else. He did not want her to think that he only wanted sympathy; he only wanted her to get the message that his marriage wasn't as good as she thought it was. "My apologies for my rambling. I should not be telling a stranger my sob story. So, what's your life like? Do you have a significant other yourself?" Arturia shook her head.

"It is fine. It is my fault that I asked. Anyway", she continued. "No, I am not dating anybody as of late. I don't even remember how long it has been since I've last gone out with somebody." Her answer surprised Diarmuid; not many women were as beautiful as she was, or at least that was his take on it. He gave a soft smirk.

"Hmph, I would not have guessed that in a million years. I would have made the conclusion that you would not have any problems finding a suitable male. I mean, you are quite beautiful and very friendly from my standpoint. What more could a man want?" Arturia grinned a bit, looking at his amber with her emeralds.

"Thank you for the compliment, but I would have to disagree. And even if I _did_ have those two qualities, I do not have the qualities of a good woman. Unfortunately, I am not good at cooking or cleaning or any other types of things that should be natural to a female", she informed him. He rested his eyelids, letting out a small chuckle as he did so, causing her to look at him in confusion. "Is something funny?" the Englishwoman questioned him, to which he shook his head. Opening his eyes, he separated his lips to speak.

"No, no, I was just chuckling at the fact that you said that you do not have the natural skills a woman should possess. I just find it funny to hear that you think that way." Arturia's eyebrows lifted a little, as she made a questioning look.

"Why is that amusing?"

"Well, I don't think that those skills _should_ be natural to a woman. In fact, I think that it should be the man who cooks and cleans. Or at least, that's what I believe", answered Diarmuid. Arturia grinned, satisfied with the reply. _What a wonderful man_ , she commented within her head.

"Is that how it goes at your house even if you are not happy with your wife?" The Irishman before her nodded to the question. "Well, your wife is very, very lucky to have a man who cooks and cleans for her. Even if you are not happy with your wife, the least you can do is be happy about making her happy. You are indeed a very good husband. There are not many men out there like you. A man with such thoughts like yours is quite rare. It's unfortunate that you are already married. If you weren't, then I would have taken you the moment you told me that that's what you believe. And not only that, but you are quite handsome as well", the petite blonde added with a short giggle. Diarmuid's heart fluttered about his chest after listening to the sweet sound once more. Would her laugh ever get old?

The two chatted for a while and before long both had their food and were laughing at their joking manners, as they ate. They enjoyed each others company, and although Diarmuid knew that flirting with another woman, whom he did not know much about, was wrong it still felt oh so right to him. In fact, it seemed as though his wife had apparently left his thoughts altogether (a moment that was quite rare for him), for he continued to flirt and joke with the female in front of him. Arturia had seemingly forgotten about the ring that circled around his left ring-finger as well, because she too just continued to flirt and joke with the man (who she began to call "Dia").

As the two finished off the last of their meals and paid their bills, they simply sat, chatting about little things such as where they went to school, where did they grow up at, what they had a degree in, etc. To them, the two hours that they spent in the restaurant seemed like only a couple minutes. Time seemed to have started running on them. They did not even notice this until Diarmuid looked at his silver watch to realize that Gráinne was going to be back home within ten minutes. "Oh crap!" the male exclaimed, as he quickly got up from his seat. "Sorry, Arturia, but I have to go. My wife will be worried, if I'm not home before she is", he explained. She smiled and nodded to him, giving him a small wave and a sweet "goodbye". He responded to her with a wave before turning around. Suddenly, he heard Arturia's voice once more. "Wait, Diarmuid!" she called out to him, causing his head to turn towards her. She walked up to him with a small piece of paper in her hands. "If you ever need someone to talk to, call me anytime." She slipped the paper into his hands, looking up at him with a smile.

Diarmuid looked at what was written on the post-it note, realizing that it was her phone number. He looked down at her with his grin. "Do you have another one I could use?" the man questioned her, to which she nodded. He bobbed his head in thanks before taking the small paper and the pen that she had offered to him and writing down his own cellphone number for her. After writing the number, he printed his name neatly before giving her the items back. "Thank you. Talk to you soon then?" She gave him one more smirk and nod before waving to him once more.

"Talk to you soon, Dia", she said, before turning the other way toward the table that they shared to grab her purse. She looked at him, warmness in her eyes, as she left. The Irishman was frozen for a second after she left, but he soon realized that he was on the clock to get home and hurried out of the restaurant and walked toward his car.


	2. Soda Bread and Profiteroles

**A/N: Hey everybody, I'm back. And um well, this chapter...just proceed with caution – _seriously_. And if you want to cry, I recommend that you picture everything that happens in this chapter – _everything_. And don't worry Ms. AtomicBomb, Diarmuid and Gráinne's marriage is explained in this chapter. Anyway, I hope you all...yeah (still don't know if you actually are supposed to enjoy sad stuff).**

* * *

 _ **Soda Bread and Profiteroles**_

"Would you like any rolls today, sir? Or, we also offer banana nut bread, cherry bread, blueberry bread, cream puffs, and soda bread as well", the waitress stated to the handsome man with the glasses that rested on his nose. His amber eyes met the yellow eyes of the server, a slight nod coming from him. He remembered when his uncle (and foster father) would always make it homemade for him and his elder brother. His father's recipe was the best. Having soda bread always seemed to take him down memory lane.

"Yes, I would like some soda bread and cream puffs please", the customer told her as he listened to the voice of his foster father inside his head, recalling the many times that he would make it. _Cú! Dia! I made some soda bread if you want some,_ he would always call out to the two young boys who were sparring outside, practicing their swordsmanship with their weapons. The children would look towards each other with wide grins on their faces before picking up their practice supplies and running inside the large home.

 _I hope I get married someday_ , the younger sibling said one time after they saw a newlywed couple walking down the street, holding hands and leaning on each other lovingly. _And, I hope that my wife is beautiful and sweet and perfect_ , the boy added happily as he and his motherly figure Scathach, his brother and foster father snacked on some soda bread. His father and Scathach laughed as his uncle patted the child's head.

 _I'm sure you will, Dia. I'm sure you will_. Cú giggled, small legs swinging as they dangled from the chair. He nodded in agreement before taking another munch out of the sweet food. The Irishman was suddenly sent out of his daze. "Alright, I will be back shortly with your bread."

* * *

" _Hey, Gráinne. It's Diarmuid. I won't be home whenever you get back from work; I'm going to go visit Cú for a little bit just to let you know. So, please don't worry about where I am. Love you; bye."_

How many lies has he told to her? That was the question of the day, question of the week, question of the month, question of the year, hell probably the question of an infinite number of eternities. The raven-haired man looked at the table, head resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned his arm against the quartz countertop. "I-I don't even know anymore, Cú. I honestly don't. I-I can't even tell you how many times I have to lie to her in a single _day,_ let alone since the day that we first met." Guilt was obvious in his voice. It was like pointing out the elephant in the room. There was no way that you couldn't see it or notice it. "But, I-I can't tell her the truth, Cú. I just can't. It would kill her." The blue-haired male before him sighed, sympathy present inside.

"I know, Dia. I know", he replied to his kin before turning around and looking into the oven. Diarmuid could smell a rather familiar sent but was not sure what exactly it was. It was _so_ familiar. It almost made his guilt turn to not being able to place a finger on the scent. What was it?

"What are you making, Cú? It smells familiar, but I can't place my finger on what it is", he told his family member, who shook his head in disappointment. "What? Why are you shaking your head?"

"Have you truly fallen so deep that you can't even recognize the smell of Uncle's soda bread? That's sad, Dia. That's pretty sad. We _always_ had it as kids." Cú sounded offended, but Diarmuid knew he was justified in being so. He really shouldn't have forgotten the signature smell of the recipe. Suddenly, yet another familiar smell crawled its way up the cursed man's nose. He looked at Cú with a confused look. The red-eyed male hesitated before reluctantly telling his brother. "I'm also making profiteroles, okay?"

"And, you think that I'm sad? Cú, you're still depressed." Red eyes pointed towards him. Dia could see more denial in them at that moment than anything else in his whole life. "You have been for two years. You saying you aren't depressed is like me saying that I love my marriage and that I want to have an actual wedding", he argued. Cú scoffed as the oven started to beep, telling him that the bread was finished.

The amber-eyed adult remembered the day that he had been forced into his marriage with Gráinne. She had come to his house with an odd document in her hands, and after he looked at it he realized that she had placed a geas on him, saying he was to marry her. He could still feel the fear that he felt that day, the feeling of hopelessness and not knowing what to do. He knew couldn't get out of it so there was no use in trying.

So instead of trying to stop it because he knew full well that she wouldn't take it off of him, he had told her that they would only get married legally. There would be no wedding or anything of the such. They would only be married on paper. Diarmuid believed that being wed by god meant that the two were getting married for love and not for anything else so arranged marriages should not have anything to do with the church. And, he would not go against his beliefs. Luckily, Gráinne agreed (albeit reluctantly) and the two filled out their marriage papers, making it official.

"Look, you may think I'm depressed, but I'm not. I'm really not. You know how I am. I do not like letting the past get to me. Especially when it happened to years ago", Cú replied with a bit of sass, setting out the bread for cooling and putting his oven mitt back in the drawer. "I like to live in the moment so things that happened in the past don't bother me." His kin glared at him, not believing one word that he was saying. Yes, it was true that Cú tended to live in the moment and did not like looking at the past too much, but even if it had happened two years ago he knew he still loved her and that was certainly still at the moment. It had been for seven years. Trying to forget something that had been going on for seven years and was still continuing was not easy. And even if Cú denied it, Diarmuid knew that he still thought about it even if he tried his hardest to forget it, to not let it hurt him.

"Whatever", Diarmuid responded to him. "But, I didn't come here to discuss you being depressed. I came to tell you about a young woman that I met earlier today." Cú's interest seemed to flair up. His eyes looking into his brother's as he listened closely. It wasn't because he was interested in this woman however; it was because _Diarmuid_ seemed rather interested in her, like he could actually find some sort of happiness if he started to hang out with her. After everything was told, Cú closed his god-like eyes for a moment before glancing back at the handsome man, a slight smile forming on his lips. "What is it?"

"You know, you actually sounded kind of happy there for a second. It didn't sound like you for a moment. It felt like I just got a breath of fresh air just hearing you sound cheerful for once. I haven't heard you sound that way in three years", he told him, earning a light blush and a head turn from Diarmuid. "Like I told you earlier, you can barely consider Gráinne your wife. She forced you to make a promise that you did not want to make. If you sin and have an affair, it is not you who will bear the black. It will be her. She caused you your trouble; she caused your sins. It is kind of like being a brainwash victim. You may be sinning by doing what the enemy is telling you to do, but in no way is it your fault. An assassin may be the killer, but most of the blame is put on the one who gave the order. So if you do choose to have an affair, a little bit of the sin may be put on you, but the rest will be put on Gráinne. You had no choice in the matter", the elder Duibhne reminded the younger one, who gave a sigh.

"I-I know but still." Another sigh and corrected posture. "Well, it's my decision, so you don't have any say in it. I'll be the one choosing what I want to do with my marriage just like you chose to let her go. I told you not to let her leave, but you didn't listen to me and now you cry yourself to sleep every night."

"I don't cry myself to sleep."

"Don't think that I didn't hear you that one time I stayed the night here to get away from Gráinne."

"That was one time! And that happened a long time ago."

"Yeah, if a month and a half ago is a long time then yes it was a very long time ago. Anyway, it's my decision, and you can't tell me what to do. I'm a grown man. I can make my own choices", he told Cú, starting towards the door before Cú stopped him.

His hand grabbed onto Diarmuid's arm; his expression looking concerned and worried. And, Diarmuid knew why his brother was so worried as well. Ever since the first day of being officially married, he had looked at his younger sibling the same way. He was worried that his younger sibling's health would decline, that he would start making the decisions he did, that bad things would start to happen to him. He knew that he could deny his depression, but he couldn't run away from it. "Diarmuid, please listen to me", the man started, putting his hands on his brother's shoulders and begging the handsome male to just hear him out for once. "If you continue on with this hell of a marriage, you're going to regret it later – when it's too late to get out of it. I understand that you hold all of your morals and beliefs as close to your heart as possible, but life isn't fair and sometimes you just have to go against them. And anyway, continue with staying with Gráinne and you'll lose all of them anyway. Trust me, Dia; some things are just meant to be broken. It's inevitable. And...and, I can't stand to see you like this anymore."

A loose tear fell from his red eye as he looked at his brother, looking like he was pleading for his life. "I-I already lost her. I-I don't want to lose you too." Cú Chulainn was close to crying, something that he always seemed to hide. He may have cried more than one would think, but it was never in front of people. He didn't want to show any weakness, but in this instance he didn't have a choice. His tears seemed to have gotten their own mind, running down his cheeks, causing Diarmuid's own eyes to water as well. "Please, Dia. Don't-don't make yourself go through hell just like I did." And with that, Cú's arms tightened around the amber-eyed Irishman. "I don't want you to."

After he pulled away, he silently walked back to the kitchen, not wanting to make even more tears start to crawl down his cheeks. Diarmuid wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve before turning back to the door. "I'll try not to, Cú. I'll try not to." A pause. "Well, I'm going home. Talk to you later." The sound of the door opening and closing could be heard. The remaining male stood in the room for one last moment before he dried his eyes and walked back to his room, opening the door and going inside. He skimmed his eyes over all of the many pictures until one of them captured his eye. He picked it up and stared at it, as if he was studying it.

The picture was of him with Diarmuid to the very left of the picture and a certain blonde in his arms in the center. They were all smiling, happiness in their eyes. The three almost looked like they were laughing as the photographer took the picture. _Why can't it be like that now?_ He went to the bed, taking a seat at the end of it. He traced the female's beautiful figure that was covered in a gorgeous, blue ice skating outfit, her hand holding one side of a trophy as his hand held the other. His eyes went to himself as he looked at his long blue locks of hair that were down that day, along with his own blue outfit.

He placed his thumb over the female's blonde hair, lightly tracing it as if he was stroking it like he used to when she had her head placed on his toned chest as they lied in bed waiting for their fatigue to overtake them. He could almost still feel her light breath on his bare skin.

He stood up to put the picture back. When he did, he glanced at the picture beside it – him and her giving each other a loving kiss while they ice skated. _Our problems are directly opposite from each other, Dia. You gained someone whom you want nothing to do with and nearly hate, while I lost someone whom I wanted to spend my entire life with and loved with all my heart, with all my being. Life is so cruel. But, that's just how the world is. Nobody can change that_ , Cú said in his mind as he picked up the other picture. _I miss you so much_.

Setting it back down, he once again went to the bed where he collapsed. His hands covered his face in pure anguish and regret. _I hope that you are much happier than I am, my love. All you deserve is everything good in this world._ More tears welled up in his eyes. _Why? Why did I let you go?_

 _Her lips escaped his much too soon; her fingers being pulled from his. His gut gnawed at him violently as she watched her tugged away from him by her bodyguards. "We have to go. We do not want to miss your plane." He could feel drops of liquid dripping off of his chin, seeing the same liquid drip off of hers._

" _Please, don't make me let him go. Please, don't do it! I don't want to! I don't want to! I don't want to do this anymore! I can't leave him!" she started to yell as she sobbed, causing her love to do the same. She ran into his arms, clinging to him as if she was clinging on to her life. Which in a metaphorical manner, she was. He clung onto her, not wanting to let her petite form go._

" _I am sorry, milady, but you don't have any choice anymore. You have already signed the papers", one of the guards reminded her. She screamed back without even a moment in between._

" _That was before I knew that it would mean I couldn't talk to him anymore! That I couldn't see him anymore! I know it was in the print, but she knew that I can't read very well! Let me stay! Let me stay!" She was pulled from him, sobbing and screaming. "Cú! Cú!" He tried to run after her but with success, for another guard was holding him back. "I love you! I love you! I don't want to leave you!" she wailed, being dragged onto the plane._

" _I love you too! Please, don't make her go! Or at least let me go with her! Please! I beg you! I beg you!" He was trying to fight back, but fighting as you watched your love get dragged (or more like ripped) from you was not an easy feat. "Please", he whispered as his legs collapsed; she was now out of his sight. He heard the footsteps of the last guard hurry onto the plane before the door shut. His whole body was shaking as a hand was placed on his back. "Please", was his last whisper before his brother and his best friend had to drag him out of the airport and bring him home._

The feeling of her hands and lips slipping away from him continued to linger his body. It had been two years since he had seen her, had even spoken to her. Cú had gone through many, many hardships during his life, but those were different. He was able to get past those, to forget about them, but it was only because he had her that he was able to do so. And now, she was gone. He knew he could forget about any other obstacle life could throw at him, but this one – this one there was no he could get by it. All he could do was suffer through it.

Just like two year prior, he could see his hand shaking wildly as his breathing quickened, and he moved the palms of his hands up to his closed eyes after looking at the picture that was placed on his bedside table. "Jeanne."


	3. Chocolate Cake with a Sip of Baileys

**A/N: Hope y'alls enjoy...I guess.**

 **P.S. - Since this story has been in progress for a while, the plot of this chapter changed dramatically, and the story will also be rated M for abuse, alcohol use, drug use, rape, sexual content, and vulgar language. So please, be cautious reading this. I will also put this story on both Wattpad and Archive of Our Own, which I originally did not plan to do, but I will do it just in case fanfiction does not appreciate the content in which this story with have. Thank you for reading!**

 _ **~Assassin Number 9**_

* * *

 _ **Chocolate Cake with a sip of Baileys**_

"Can I get you anything to eat?" the yellow-eyed waitress asked with a sweet tone. The honey-eyed customer smiled at her before replying.

"I would just like a piece of your famous chocolate cake, oh, and a glass of Baileys Irish Cream if that is alright. My wife would not exactly be happy if I went home already full, but I also can't resist ordering the best cake that I've ever tried", Diarmuid stated light-heartedly, making his server giggle as she wrote the order.

"I agree wholeheartedly on that statement! I absolutely love all sweets, but the chocolate cake here takes the cake for my favorite! Pun definitely intended!" The Irishman laughed at the waitress's fun and cheery demeanor. "Haha, anyway, I'll be sure to put that in for you, and would you like some water or anything along with the Baileys?"

"Water is fine," Diarmuid nodded with a polite grin. The server nodded once more with the lovely expression on her face that servers normally wore every day to work. With a shake of the woman's slender hips, she made her way back to the kitchen to place the order with a cheerful, "It should be out in a moment."

The passive movement that normally manifested itself in females reminded him of his lover. It reminded him of how much it annoyed her. _"I do not even have big hips, so why do I even do that?"_ she always grunted before he would wrap her with his muscular arms from behind and pulling her into his lap. He would give her a kiss on the neck (or if he was feeling rather _ornery_ he would _"accidentally"_ give her a hickey) and rub her thighs. Hell, he still did that even to this day, and she still blushed every time he did it.

" _I think you look absolutely_ sexy _when you do that. I can barely resist myself when I see it,"_ he always responded, earning a satisfied chuckle from the woman in his lap. He knew how to please her, how to compliment her, how to love her, and he normally got rewarded when he did so, which was a bit of reward for her as well.

The sound of glass hitting wood caused him to exit his thoughts. In front of him was the water and Baileys he had requested. He wondered if he should stop by the liquor store and pick some up for her along with a whole cake for the two of them. _Maybe I'll be rewarded if I do so_. He laughed to himself before taking a sip of Baileys and deciding what the couple's plans were later that night. _Can't go wrong with chocolate cake and Baileys._

* * *

" _It Feels So Wrong yet So Right! I am Sleeping with a Married Man at Least Once a Week, yet All I can Think About is how Amazing it is. I Feel No Guilt or Even Sympathy for the Woman I am Taking Him From._

 _When Did I Even Become this Selfish?"_

"Diarmuid." No response. "Diarmuid!" No response. " _Diarmuid!_ " Finally, the woman's husband reacted, albeit not how she had desired him to. His eyes were wide before he shook his head violently and wiping his eyes. "I have no fucking clue what you are thinking about, but I'm sure there's nothing more important than one's spouse. Did you even hear what I was telling you?"

The dumbfounded male looked at her before speaking up clearly. "Sorry, what was that?" There was obvious anger in his wife's eyes. "I'm sorry. I've, uh, had a long week. I'm tired is all." This only made the female angrier.

"If you were tired, why did you go over to that pathetic brother of yours's house? Why didn't you just come home and take a nap? Why didn't you just rest here? I wouldn't have woken you up. If my love needs his beauty-"

"Grainne, I'm fine. Just leave it alone. Now, what were you trying to tell me?" Grainne could hear the obvious aggravation in his tone. They had been together for three years now, yet he was still hostile to her. She had done all that she could to make both of them happy, but it always ended up with her pleased and Diarmuid acting annoyed, like he hated his life. She stayed quiet, waiting for an apology from the man, but none ever came. It never did in the past so why she even expected one was beyond her comprehension. "What?"

She sighed angrily before repeating herself. "I am leaving to go to Los Angeles for a business trip next Thursday. I will be gone for three weeks. I trust that you will not make any rash decisions whilst I am not here in London."

Diarmuid looked into his "lover's" brown eyes calmly before nodding. "Of course, I won't. I haven't done so in the past. I do not plan on doing it in the future." Yet another lie that was. On the outside, he was acting cool and collected, but his mind was absolutely ecstatic at the news. Three weeks without Grainne meant three weeks with Arturia if his new friend agreed. It was true he never did anything that he shouldn't have done in the past, but it seemed like that might change in the near future.

"Hmph, alright; I'll trust you."

"What's more important than trust in a relationship?" _Love_. _Obviously_. He watched as she rolled her eyes at him, silently hoping that either a young maiden or maybe even widow would try to sweep him off his feet. He knew that every time either he or she left she would always grow rather worried. What woman wouldn't immediately get caught off guard by his charm and charismatic personality. It was understandable that she would get a bit distressed, but Diarmuid couldn't help but blame her for it. She knew what she was getting into; she, herself, had fallen under his spell (a bit too much as well).

"Whatever. Just please don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

At that moment, about a million different retaliations popped up in his mind. _Like fuck a random bartender? Like suck a stranger's dick? Like blackmail a guy who doesn't love you into marrying you? Yep, totally will do those things in the next three weeks._ "Got it", he stated instead, trying not to laugh at the hypocrisy of her statement.

"Wonderful, now will my amazing husband please help me pack for my trip? I might even be sweet enough to reward him later tonight if he does," she almost moaned with a lick of her lips, walking over to the other side of the table to run her hands down his chest and legs. Honey eyes watched as she did so. No emotion present in them whatsoever. No excitement down south either. Well, that is until he started to think of a certain blonde doing the exact same thing (only a lot better and gentle and maybe even _sexier_ ).

"I'm good," he told her when he flashed back into reality and once again realized that it was his "wife" who was trying to get his pants off and not the one he was now desiring. "I'll help you pack, but I don't need or _want_ anything else.

Grainne paused, confusion taking over her and causing her to freeze. "Excuse me?" she questioned him, offended with his answer. _Well, time to guilt trip him_. "Do you not think I'm pretty enough? Do you not think I'm not nice? Do you not enjoy making love? How could you do that to me? After all I've sacrificed for you? After all I've done for you, you still do not desire to have sex with me?" Her tone was betrayed, infuriated, but she knew what she was doing. Manipulation was her specialty, and guilt was the top prop for it.

The man looked at her with calm eyes. "I do not need to have sex with you to-"

"No, you're going to have sex with me whether you like it or not!" With a swing of her arm, she slapped him across the face. "You have to! You're my husband! You agreed to marry me! You signed the papers! Now, get in the bedroom right now!" _Here comes "plan B."_ Or as he liked to call it, abuse with a side of rape.

She slapped him once more, quite harder than the last one. He didn't do anything except look at her, didn't say anything about her hitting him. She would have become the victim then, would have maybe even told him that he was a good-for-nothing man who only worried about himself, would have possibly accused him of raping _her_ instead. This was how those kind of women were. He recalled some of the stories his psychologist told him from her past patients and online discussions that were open to the public.

Men couldn't say anything when it was them being raped by a woman. Men couldn't say anything when it was them being abused by a woman. Men couldn't say anything when they were being controlled by a woman. It was how the world worked. And anyway, Diarmuid believed that men should never hit women in any instance. It was just how he was taught, how his morals were.

Without another second, Grainne started dragging "her man" to the bedroom, undressing him as she did so, slapping him whenever he tried to stop her from doing so. As they entered the room and he was pinned down to the bed with little resistance since he knew what he would have in store for the future if he did so, his eyes went to the calendar. _Tuesday_ , he commented in his mind. _Two days and I am free of this hell for three weeks._ _Thank god_.

All he did for the entire time that the bed rocked and groaned as his wife moaned in pleasure, every once in awhile smacking him to try and get a response from him, was look at the calendar as if attempting to time travel to Thursday when she would leave for America. _I guess it truly is the "land of the free,"_ he thought to himself before the sound of Grainne screaming interrupted his mind. Her breathing was heavy before she finally spoke out. "That was amazing. Hah, a-alright, let's start packing."

She got off of him and got dressed, continuing to walk to the closet in the upstairs hallway to grab her suitcase. While she was gone, Diarmuid followed suit, only making his way to the master bath instead of the closet. Locking the door behind him, he strolled up to the mirror to go see the damage that she had done (and the damage he had to cover before he went to work the next day). On the right side of his face, he could see a large red mark. He could also see that underneath his eye was already starting to swell. He was no doubt going to have a black eye the next day.

He suddenly heard the door to the bedroom open and close, signaling for him to get out of the bathroom before Grainne yelled at him. At least, he could have the pleasure of knowing that he helped her pack to go to a whole other continent.

* * *

Thursday came quickly, and it seemed like the drive to the airport was only ten minutes when it was in reality two hours. Diarmuid hummed to the tunes of the radio, trying not to look at himself in the rear-view mirror for fear that his black eye wasn't covered up well enough. He had laughed out loud when he couldn't see Grainne anymore at the airport after she entered the terminal. She was officially out of his life for three weeks, and he was now on his way to his home, only five minutes away (for he had been debating whether to call Arturia or not), holding his phone up to his ear as he drove. He was smiling like an idiot for a reason that would sound absolutely sinful to even an inactive Christian. "Hello, you've reached the Pendragon Residence. How may I help you?"

His heart skipped a bit in both anticipation and fear when he heard the woman speak. He hadn't been expecting that someone would answer on the first try. The Irishman froze up a bit when a voice did come through. There was a small moment of silence before the servant questioned, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Ah, um, yes, yes. My apologies. Um, this is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. I-I would like to speak with the master of the house please," he stuttered nervously.

"Can you please state your business?" the woman questioned.

"Ah, um, I don't really have any true business. I was just-"

"Oh! My apologies, Mr. Duibhne. I was not expecting you to call. She informed that she was going to try to reach you later today if not sometime this weekend. My sincere apologies; I'll get her right away."

 _She was going to call me? She was going to call_ me? _She was going to call me!_ His nerves left him after he had the realization. Why should he be nervous when Arturia had wanted to call _him_? She wanted to speak with home, so there was no reason be anxious.

He could hear voices from the other end and then what sounded like maybe panicking, excitement possibly. He had no idea. Suddenly he could hear someone on the other end speaking into the phone - Arturia. "Hi, Diarmuid. I wasn't expecting you to call. I, myself, was planning on trying to reach you later on and never considered that possibility." Her voice sounded sweet and refined just as it had sounded at the little restaurant in which they first met.

He smiled to himself with a slight blush before responding, "Ah well, I couldn't wait much longer to speak with you. And, I also had a question for you."

"Oh, and what is your question?" she asked curiously, but he thought she knew what was coming.

"Well, you see, my wife just left to go on a trip for three weeks to go to Los Angeles, and I was wondering if we could, um, get to know each other a bit better and have a bit of fun."

Diarmuid could hear giggling from her end. Her voice was light and playful, a bit _flirty_ even. "Is that supposed to be a euphemism for something?" The question caused the handsome Irishman to laugh, his mind starting to wander off to dangerous but pleasurable places.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me if it is or not?" he told her flirtatiously, his thoughts starting to get even naughtier. "If I recall correctly, you informed me that you were talented in riding horses. Maybe you can use that talent for something else when we meet up." Diarmuid wondered if she was feeling how he was feeling. Hungry? Thirsty? Excited? She certainly did sound like it.

"Heh, maybe. Would you like to make your way over to my house and find out here at six? I will send you the address over text. We can have a nice dinner, get to know each other, and have some wonderful dessert as well. But, it is completely up to you."

Diarmuid licked his lips. It had been so long since he had flirted with someone who he was honestly interested in, and it had been even longer since he made love with someone he actually desired to make love with. It had been so long since a woman had made him crave for her, made him want to make her scream and moan in complete and utter ecstasy. He knew what Artie was trying to do. She was trying and succeeding into making the male drool, to torture him until he would just show up at her house uninvited to solve the problem.

No, he wouldn't give in to it. He, himself, wanted to make her not be able to wait any longer for someone to help her relieve the tension. He wanted to slowly drive her crazy until she yelped his name for him to help. "Sounds fantastic. I'll be there at six."

"Oh! Um, if you are not busy tomorrow, you could spend the night, and we could, you know, spend tomorrow together to actually get to know each other better," she suggested, causing Diarmuid to laugh. He had arrived home, unlocking the front door and walking inside. He immediately went to the bedroom.

"Heh, yeah, that sounds nice. I don't have to work on Fridays and Saturdays, so that'll work perfectly."

"Great," the woman simply replied. "Well, I'll see you at six."

"Yeah, see you at six." He smiled at whatever damn thing he was looking at. Whatever it was, he couldn't process it. He was too busy speaking with his - shall I say - lover.

"See you soon, Dia."

"And you as well, Artie."

"I can't wait."

"I can't either."

"Maybe you should come now?" _Heh, she sounds like she's getting a little desperate already._

"Maybe." He was as well though.

"I'll see you in a few minutes then?"

"Yeah, I'll be there as quickly as I can. Packing my bag now and leaving. See ya in a few seconds." With that, the two hang up without even a goodbye. What was the damn point if they were going to see each other within minutes.

Diarmuid continued to do what he said he was going to, packing his bag and grabbing his keys and the phone that had just buzzed with his illegal lover's address showing up on his screen. He then copy, pasted the address into Google Maps as he entered his car. And to his relief, Arturia's place was only two blocks away - only two blocks away from a sin that he couldn't avoid to commit. And oh boy did that sin feel so _amazing_ just to even think about committing. He was only five minutes away from committing it, unless of course he committed another sin by speeding through town to get there in two minutes. But, that was something he would worry about if it happened. Right now, he was just worried about his first priority - to actually make love to someone he wanted to make ever loving love with.

* * *

 **A/N: Next update will be for Crossing Fates followed by Of A King's Knight and Tears. I just wanted to get this update finished, because it's been a fucking year since I've updated this one so yeah. Have a WONDERFUL Day!**


	4. Salmon and Rosé Champagne

**A/N: Welcome back, my beautifuls! Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **To MissAtomicBomb: If we ever meet in real life, I'm bringing you some bottles of Baileys, sweetie! :D**

* * *

 _ **Salmon and Ros**_ _ **é**_ _ **Champagne**_

The taste of beautifully cooked salmon soaked the Irishman's taste buds. There was one plus side of being Irish – the natural talent of being a good fisherman and being able to make any type of fish into a five-star meal. Was that just a stereotype? Probably, but all the Irishmen he knew could cook even a carp to perfection (not that they would ever try or even want to, but they could if they would).

He remembered how Jeanne absolutely loved their family get togethers, because she did not have the luxury of having fish as often as they. The Duibhne family lived on a giant island, so things got a little fishy at their parties. Shrimp cocktail was at every gathering, among other types of seafood snacks including clams, oysters, and of course sushi. He recalled the first time she accompanied his brother to a reunion. Her face was red with wonder at all the different samples of ocean life (well, dead now) she could taste. Cu had laughed happily the entire time, not even being worn down by the hell that was a family reunion (let alone a Duibhne reunion).

Diarmuid, although having had fish almost every day of his young life, absolutely loved salmon, but only when it was cooked correctly. Salmon was kind of like lamb. There was only one way to cook it for one person. Even a slight difference would be like a can of dogfood and a sirloin steak. Salmon made to perfection was like heaven in main course form. It was like dining with the Queen. It was simply delectable. There was no other word for it.

Along with it, rosé champagne complemented it. It added to the delicious nature of the fish. There was nothing better. While champagne was normally drunk during special occasions, there was no reason not to treat yourself occasionally. Temptations were hard to suppress at times and, boy, was Diarmuid one to know that. He was, in fact, the one who had thrusted himself into temptation. Did he regret it? The moral answer could go straight to hell, but the longing in his heart would go with him up to heaven (hopefully). God was one for forgiveness. He would most definitely forgive Diarmuid. Diarmuid knew it, which was why he would continue curing some of his temptations. So long as God was forgiving, Diarmuid could dwell in the bath of his sin.

* * *

" _I Simply Do Not Know How to Describe the Sensation I Feel when I am with Her. The Feeling is like a Drug. It is Just So Fucking Addicting. So Fucking Addicting. Just So Fucking Addicting."_

Amber eyes wandered around the insanely humungous mansion. The decorations were all flawless, not a speck of dust on even the most detailed of items. The married man was astounded by the beauty of it all. He had not expected her to be rich; she had not seemed like it when he first met her. However, he should have expected it when he called and a servant had answered instead of Arturia.

He suddenly heard the giggle of an angel. It was light and happy, almost like someone jumping with joy through an orchard of flowers. He turned toward the woman at the other end of the table. Her greens eyes were full of spark, her lips red with the lip gloss she had put on them. He wondered how she hadn't left any marks on the glass yet. Maybe she was leaving her marks for him.

Diarmuid smiled playfully with a hint of red upon his cheeks, "What are you laughing at? It isn't very kind to laugh at your guests." She looked at him with a wide smile upon her face, then leaning her elbow on the dinner table with her chin rested upon the palm of her hand.

"I was just thinking how cute and handsome you looked when you were studying my home. Please tell me that you were staring in awe and not in disgust," she smiled.

Diarmuid chuckled a bit. "I don't think that anyone would look around and think that your home is disgusting. I was in fact in awe by everything. It almost matches your beauty, but I don't think that anything can match that." He watched as her face turned red. She had lowered her guard thanks to the comment and was that oh so perfect. He couldn't help but stare at her in that moment. He watched as she began to open her mouth to speak but was soon interrupted by the silver-haired servant presenting the food for the evening.

"Here you are. Tonight, we have poached salmon, topped with homemade champagne sauce. For sides, the quinoa salad complements the taste of the salmon perfectly as well as potatoes with garlic and parmesan butter spread. All was cooked by our amazing chef, Achilles. We do hope you enjoy. Desert will be coming after you are finished eating," the maid curtsied before making her way back to the kitchen.

The two looked down at the food, almost drooling it looked so delicious. Simultaneously, they dug in without another word, moaning at how amazing everything tasted. "Wow, you must live like a queen every day if you're being cooked this type of food," commented the handsome male, earning a nod from his company for the night.

"It is quite the luxury. I love a good meal, so I most definitely do feel like a queen."

"Heh, maybe I could treat you like a queen sometime and make us dinner," he told her with red ears. Her eyes widened at the offer, surprised by the invitation. If he could cook then he would be the _perfect_ man to- Well, maybe not. Maybe there was a way around it, but for the time being they were to simply bring each other into their respective beds and go on dates.

She smiled sweetly at him. "I would enjoy that very much." He grinned before continuing to eat. She simply watched him. She had never met a man like him before. He was absolutely gorgeous as well. He was tall, so tall that he could make her feel frail, but in a good way. He was handsome, so much so that any woman would be swept off their feet as she was when she first met him. He was polite and chivalrous, much like the knights back in the Arthurian legends. But most of all, he treated her with so much respect, making her believe that she was worth so much more than she initially thought.

Arturia could barely believe that he decided to cheat on his wife, but she was aware that he had been tricked into marrying her. She knew that he did not love his wife. "What is she like?" she mumbled to herself. She had previously meant to only keep that question in her mind but had accidentally spoken aloud for Diarmuid to hear. She gasped silently before looking up at her date, who was obviously confused by the question.

"Hmm?" he tilted his head.

She blushed, realizing her mistake. The blonde decided to continue though. There was no going back now that she had asked the question. "Ah, um, your wife. What is your wife like?" She then took a bite of her salad.

"Oh, okay," he smiled, seemingly uncomfortable.

"I-I'm sorry. I just was curious. Excuse my rudeness. You do not have to tell me about her if you do not want. I was just wondering how such a gentleman could possibly cheat on his wife. Not saying that you're not a gentleman! Because, you most definitely are! I just-" Arturia mumbled off, not knowing what else to say. She did not want to screw this up, but she had no idea about dating, let alone dating a married man.

Suddenly, he burst into laughter, now causing her to be confused. He continued like that for a second before finally calming himself down. Diarmuid looked at her from across the table. "Sorry, sorry. That was uncalled for on my part. I know what you mean. Although, I hardly think I am a gentleman. I do try my hardest to be one though," the Irishman explained. "Anyway, my wife and I had been good friends back in high school. We were always there for one another, because she had moved to my school in our freshman year. We got along great, but during the summer of my junior year I learned why she had relocated to our school."

The Englishwoman listened carefully. She wondered what had gone wrong for them to get to be in such a bad relationship that Dia had to have an affair.

"Well," he continued. "I figured out that she was engaged to a much older man through arranged marriage. That older man was my employer. His name was Fionn. We had also gotten along very well prior to everything that happened. He was extremely successful, a multi-millionaire in fact. I worked as his assistant at his financial company. There, I learned that one of his business acquaintances was actually Grainne's father, who made an arrangement to have Grainne wed to Fionn. And I'll tell you what, it didn't take very long to realize that she hated him.

Every time I would see her, she would always say that she didn't want to marry him. Of course, I didn't really say much, because Fionn was my boss and my friend. He was almost like an older brother to me. He made sure that things were going good, and he was just always there. He also loved my family as well – my brother, Cu, and his girlfriend at the time, Jeannette.

Three years passed quickly and I was making pretty good money being a financial advisor for him. It was great. He taught me everything I needed to know, so I didn't have to pay for college or get donations from Cu instead. I was able to support myself. And one evening, Grainne showed up on my doorstep. She looked so happy, which was odd because of how unsatisfied she was with everything that was going on in her life. She had then pulled out a slip of paper – which I later realized was a magical geas. I was practically bound to marry her. I had no way out of it.

After that, I was fired from my job, because Fionn resented me so much for taking his fiancée. I was forced to move here with her, so we had no backlash for going against her father's wishes. And not only that, but I was taken away from the life I loved." Arturia stared at him in disbelief. He had seemed so happy when the two first crossed paths. It was like nothing bothered him.

"Diarmuid, how can you seem so happy when she has done all that to you?"

"It is not that I am happy. It is that I don't really…care anymore? I'm indifferent. I'm neutral. I have just gotten used to everything, so I don't really do or say anything about it."

His date stayed silent for a moment. Two moments. Three moments. She was contemplating something. She was just looking down at her food, which was almost finished. "Did she do that to you?"

"Do what?"

"That bruise. Does she abuse you?"

It was the Irishman's turn to stay quiet. He had thought that he covered it up enough that she wouldn't see it, but he had been wrong. "Y-yes, she does." He watched as she sighed and continued eating. "Please, let us finish our food. I will then show you how someone _should_ treat their lover," she smirked, the two then looking into each other's eyes seductively.

* * *

Arturia led Diarmuid to her bedroom (more like rushed them both to it) after their romantic dinner had finished. The two kissed tenderly and lovingly, some gentle, others needy. After what seemed like forever, the loves finally reached their destination, Arturia having to fish for the doorknob just to get the door open. They nearly stumbled to the ground once it had opened but luckily caught themselves before it happened.

Diarmuid didn't even ask if he could shut the door behind him. He already knew what the answer was going to be. He also made sure that he pressed the button to lock it when the room was closed. They wouldn't want any of the servants to see what was behind the closed door.

Within a second of that lock being activated, Arturia was already having her clothes tossed all around the room. Neither one of them worried about where they ended up. They needed them off, and they needed them off now. There was no time to waste. Both of them had waited way too long for a night that they enjoyed.

The handsome man took the beautiful woman in. He made sure to take in her scent. He made sure to take in her touch. He made sure to take in how she felt, and most of all he made sure to take in how she tasted. Her scent was that of perfume as well as natural pleasures. Her touch was soft and caring yet craving. Her skin was like that of the smoothest silk, and most of all her taste was that of nothing else in the world. He guessed that if heaven had a taste, it would be hers.

He wondered if this was how it felt to fall in love. He wondered if this was how Cu and Jeanne felt on their first meeting, on their first date, on their first night together, on the night of their first time in each other's embrace. The two were so ever in love; they were the pinnacle of a couple in love. Now, Diarmuid finally had the chance to feel that. He finally had the chance to be submitted into an utter ocean of desire and want. He almost felt bad that Cu had to lose it, but he did know that Cu had to break sometime. Cu was not one to let things slide for long and neither was Jeanne.

His thoughts were interrupted as cold air suddenly caused the hairs on his arm to raise. His shirt had been taken off and dropped to the floor. His lips left hers for a moment, so the two could catch their breath and look into each other's eyes, silently telling the other what they truly wanted. The lovers then went back to their lip locking and undressing. It didn't take long for them to get to their end goal.

Arturia sat on top of Diarmuid as he lied down. She placed a kiss upon his lips, whispering, " _This_ is how a woman treats her man. Your wife should learn how to do it properly." His voice was muffled as he chuckled; his hands roamed her waist, wanting to feel every inch of her.

He couldn't help but noticing the huge difference between the view he currently had in front of him and the view he had with Grainne. The feelings were incredibly diverse as well. With Grainne, he hated every minute of it. He had no decision in matters – none at all. But Arturia, she was doing this for both her _and_ him. She wanted herself to feel good, and she wanted Diarmuid to feel good. And, oh boy, did she do just that. She made Diarmuid crave for more. Something he had never felt before. She made Diarmuid's heart feel as though it was going to bust out of his chest and his stomach to pop, allowing all the butterflies to fly around them.

The two weren't even ashamed. They did not feel any guilt. They regretted nothing. They just felt amazing. They felt as the hidden desire from within presented itself. Their hands showed it. Their hearts showed it. Their actions showed it. Every move they made was filled with desire unlike ever before.

It felt so amazing. It was so amazing to have someone you truly loved sharing time in bed with you. It was vastly different than spending a night with someone you never loved. It was like the difference between a can of dogfood and a sirloin steak. One was meaningless, disgusting while the other was luxurious, delicious.

The man and woman kissed once more. Champagne was still on her breath just as his hand was still on her bare waist. They only knew each other for a short time, but it was like love at first sight. One day, they were strangers dining with one another due to a lack of seating. The next, they were in the same bed, pressed together like opposite sides of magnets. No matter what they did, they would always press firmly together again. One day, they had only known the sounds of their voice and laughs. The next, they knew what the other's moans and screams of pleasure were like.

Speaking of moans and screams, Diarmuid swore that hers were those of an angel's. They were high-pitched yet oddly reserved and overflowed with astonishment – so much different from his wife's. He heard them loud and clear even when his mind was continuingly getting more and more clouded after each moment of pure and utter ecstasy passed. He would never want to stop hearing them. This was the first time he felt that way. At home, he didn't want to hear screams at all. At home, he didn't want to hear moans at all, even for something completely unrelated.

Abruptly, he felt a surge go through him, causing him to pull her tightly against him. Her breathing was loud, sounding exhausted. Her chest was pressed up against his, rising and falling in a quick, unsteady speed. After the simultaneous feelings had passed, the two laughed, lip-locking once more before Arturia snuggled her head up to the toned neck and shoulder of Diarmuid. She could feel sweat coming off his skin, giving him a sticky texture. She loved it.

Wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, they pressed their foreheads together before declaring their night not finished yet and continuing with their forbidden romance.


End file.
